


Fortuna Imperatrix

by WhimperSoldier



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Don't Ask, M/M, Magnus travels to the, Non-Explicit Sex, and has kinda sex with alec, ~future~
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:44:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimperSoldier/pseuds/WhimperSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Something had gone horribly wrong. Magnus could tell that from the moment his face smacked painfully into smooth hardwood."</p>
<p>Magnus pays a visit to a future boyfriend he has yet to meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortuna Imperatrix

**Author's Note:**

> So I was really getting into some classical music and this came out of it and as such, I can't be held responsible for my actions.

Something had gone horribly wrong. Magnus could tell that from the moment his face smacked painfully into smooth hardwood. He groaned and pushed himself off the floor and looked around.

The room was draped in billowing curtains and fabrics of rich hues like the home of a Jinn. A phonograph was playing in another room, a haunting melody that drifted through the open french doors and into a lounge swathed in rich evening sunlight, Nocturne in D-Flat Minor if he was not mistaken. From the open windows, rain pounded outside, sending the city into a hazy blur. His magic would never take him somewhere he might be in danger but it sent a chill down his bones that he might have transported to someplace much harder to get away from than one of his many hideouts.

He made his way carefully along the room. He peeked into an alcove, the heavy wooden door cracked. A pot sat over a green fire, the contents appeared to be the beginnings of a potion, one that looked to take weeks to prepare. The home of another warlock, perhaps. Magnus backed away slowly, glancing around a few times before following the music to what looked to be a master bedroom.

If he thought the livingroom was bad, the bedroom looked as if a fabric store had thrown-up. The bed was covered in extravagant throw pillows of every shape and color, some having delicate embroidery along their edges, others solid monochromatic. Magnus pushed a side door open and cringed back when light spilled forth. Magic, maybe?

The room was rather large and filled to the brim with clothes. A woman’s closet perhaps?

His fingers skimmed the racks filled with bright and beautiful shirts and trousers of every color and fit. A few downright scandalous pieces were folded carefully in a small nook in the farest corner, their lacy trim shining crimson in the bright light. He had never seen colors so vivid before except within kings robes and sultan's turbans. It was no wonder such an expense could be spared in the decorations.

Magnus was moving to the far wall when a door opened and slammed shut somewhere in the loft. He silenced his breathing and stilled his movement, snapping his fingers and sending his magic to shut off any light from the closet. It dimmed just as a figure passed through the door. The tall man went to the phonograph and pulled up the needle to replace the record with another before placing the needle back down and pausing to listen to the first chords of a slightly melancholic sonata.

His broad back filled the crack from which Magnus was watching when he reached above his head to pull a sopping jacket from his back. The man kicked the boots from his feet and pulled the wet stockings off, tossing them in the direction of the closet. When he made for his trousers, it was only Magnus’ self preservation instinct that stopped him from calling out. 

The thick fabric side down tones thighs to pool on the floor. Tight fitting under briefs clung to thin hips and a tapered waist but it was the flash of dark ink that caught his eye. He denied it until the man, a shadow hunter from the looks of it, tugged the dripping shirt from his back that Magnus was sure. Thick runes were carved into the smooth skin of the boy’s back.

He ran fingers through his dark hair and glanced to the side giving Magnus a look at the stark profile of a beautiful man. Was it really so surprising that such a divine creature would surround themselves with such divine things?

The shadowhunter moved to discard the last piece of clothing, trading one scrap for another. He walked out of Magnus’ line of sight and a few seconds after, the sound of water gurgling came from what Magnus took to be the bathroom. The house had to be magic, so why not magical bathrooms?

He crept from the closet and just as he was about to exit the room, a groan came from the bath, the door left slightly ajar.

“ _Magnus_ ,” It was sensual and smooth, the tone one of pleasure and also one Magnus was innately familiar with. Another moan followed and also most as if being tugged by strings, he found his feet being pulled along, bringing him closer and closer to the sounds. “ _God_.”

Now _that_ was downright sinful.

The well oiled door put up no resistance and while his higher brain screamed how this could very well be a sinister trap (Camille was so vindictive) his baser instincts clawed at their cage, their nails clawing into his resolve, making him bleed.

If he was concerned before, the completely foreign room before him should have sent him running but only seemed to focus his sights on the moving body before him. The broad back was tensed and the tangled head of hair was thrown back, inky black tendrils clinging to pale skin. He moved forward, the music pounding through his veins like the Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi, a climbing beat that echoed down to his bones like a siren song.

His fingers brushed the arch of the man’s back and instead of the flinch, the sting of a shadowhunter blade, he got a laugh, a deep and contented sigh. Thin fingers pulled him forward, until his fully clothed front was pressed snugly against smooth skin. Lightly callused palms ran delicately across Magnus’ arms, trailing warm lines up his shoulders.

The shadowhunter cooed when Magnus pressed an open mouth kiss at the juncture of his throat and neck. A jerk of his hips and Magnus took in a deep rattling breath before letting out a breathy cry followed by a sharp nip to his partner’s shoulder, the thick muscle jumping under his attention. That lead to quick bites and nips at earlobes. Wandering hands and then he was pressed firmly against a cold wall, the tile digging firmly into his back and hands grabbing wantingly at his hips. Sighs and moans and muttered curses slipped between angel-kissed lips that never sounded more sinful.

He woke up drenched in a filthy London street with sheets of rain pouring down his tailored suit. He could feel this breath catch.

He stood on shaky legs and let his feet take him home. The door was locked but his magic made quick work of it, leaving a drained Magnus to throw his coat across the rack and tug his shirt from his breaches. He tossed everything across the floor of his bedroom, ending up naked in front of the full length mirror.

Camille appeared suddenly, always one for attention, before running a delicate hand down his neck in a most posessive manner. He moved away from her, too tired to begin anything with a vampire’s stamina. She huffed and sped away, a beautiful blur off to feed on someone else's misery.

He threw the bedcovers away and slid between silken sheets, thinking back to his night and any aspect that might have boded true. Magnus was a rational creature, and little of what he saw could ever come true. He knew this.

He smiled lightly and trailed gentle fingertips down the large hand-shaped bruises encircling his thighs.


End file.
